


Movie Night (Shou and Hiroto Mix)

by puss_nd_boots



Series: Movie Night [1]
Category: Alice Nine, the GazettE
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 21:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1526723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puss_nd_boots/pseuds/puss_nd_boots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruki wants to have his friends over for a fun night of cheesy grindhouse movies. Except one of the films takes an unexpected turn, which has real-life consequences - including a rather surprising interlude for Hiroto and Shou.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Movie Night (Shou and Hiroto Mix)

**Author's Note:**

> First of a four-part series examining the fallout of a single movie night from the perspectives of four different couples. Written in 2012 as a side series to Stargazer.

Ruki was the kind of person who took care of his friends. He had developed an ability over the years to see when they were hurting, when they were stressed out, before they were willing to admit it to them - before they were willing to admit it to themselves.

When that happened, he would frequently employ subtle methods of helping the person in question - taking them out somewhere, throwing a get-together, that sort of thing. (Of course, if the situation warranted, he also was not above dragging the person in question into private and reading him the riot act - as Kai found out on Valentine’s Day.)

Lately, he’d noticed a definite stressed-out vibe in both his own band and Alice Nine - with good reason. GazettE had barely put the punctuation mark on Venomous Cell and they were preparing for their 10th anniversary. Alice Nine was looking at their first major tour under their new leadership - and the new leader in question was someone about whom Ruki happened to care very deeply.

Clearly, they needed some kind of fun evening, some sort of silly and stupid get-together to blow off the steam. Something other than going out drinking, since hangovers would make nobody feel better in the end.

And this was why he was now online, looking through all kinds of sites about odd and obscure and cult movies. He was trying to develop a themed movie night, one that was not too serious (so samurai dramas that touched on actual history were out) but contained an element of wild fun as well (he’d considered kaiju films, but ultimately decided they were too childish for this crowd).

Finding nothing among Japanese films that met his needs, he surfed on over to a site covering oddities of American cinema. Old gangster movies? A possibility. Cheesy ‘50s sci-fi? File that one in the same drawer with the kaiju stuff. Link after link just made him shake his head.

And then, he hit on it. Brilliant. It was perfect. And, damn, there were even links to torrents of some of the actual movies, with Japanese subtitles, yet. Being an artist himself, Ruki didn’t like downloading commercially available stuff, but this was commercially unavailable in Japan, and unlikely to ever be so.

All he had to do was burn this stuff to disc, round up the usual troops and order pizza, and he had his movie night.  
* * *  
“How would you guys like to come over to my place tomorrow to watch some American grindhouse movies?”

Shou and Saga looked at each other in puzzlement, then turned their heads to share the same looks with Hiroto and Tora, respectively. They knew GazettE were rehearsing next door, which frequently happened, so Ruki poking his head into their room during a break wasn’t a surprise. Ruki poking his head in with a question like that, however, was.

“Gu-rind-du-haus-su?” Shou said, repeating how the word “grindhouse” had come out in Ruklish. It wasn’t a term he was overly familiar with.

“Cheesy action and horror movies from the ‘70s,” Ruki said. “They used to show them in cheap and run-down theaters in New York.” He’d actually been to New York City, when GazettE was mixing the Stacked Rubbish album, but it was long after Times Square had been cleaned up. He’d heard the legends about how it used to be, though - which made him all the more eager to watch this stuff.

“We don’t speak English,” Saga said, mentally adding, and you don’t either, Ruki. His English lyrics made that abundantly clear. “At least not enough to watch untranslated American films.”

“They’re subtitled,” Ruki said. “Come on, you need an evening out. You know you do.”

“I can’t make it,” Nao said. “I have plans with Yasuno already.” Which he was glad for, because horror movies and Nao weren’t exactly a match made in heaven - even if the horror in question was cheap and cheesy. “Thanks anyway, though!”

“I’d like to come,” Hiroto said. “It sounds like fun.” From what he’d heard, when American films were bad, they were very, very bad - laughably so.

“If Hiroto’s in, so am I,” Shou added. He figured this was all for his own benefit, anyway - and Ruki really didn’t have to do this. He’d done enough since Shou became Leader-san.

Saga shook his head. “I don’t know . . .”

“You mean, you don’t want to see scantily-clad American models with guns?” Tora said, teasingly. He actually did know a little about the grindhouse genre, and figured it was something Saga would get a kick out of. Especially given his tendency to flirt with Western models on PV sets.

Saga turned toward his boyfriend, sharply. “What makes you think I want to see something like that?”

“Just a hunch,” Tora said. “And your track record.”

“My track record of what?” Saga said. “Are you accusing me of being a pervert again?”

“I don’t have to accuse you,” Tora said, wrapping an arm around his lover’s shoulders. “I know.”

Saga shot his lover a death glare, but then heaved a sigh. “Fine. We’re in, too.”

“So, tomorrow night, around 7?” Ruki said. “I’ll have food.”

Hiroto gave Ruki a smile and a wave. “We’ll be there!”

Ruki waved back (damn, but Hiroto was cute - between him and Kai, they could generate enough sunshine to solar-power Japan for several decades) and went back toward his own rehearsal hall, pulling out his phone.

There were a few other people he wanted to invite, in addition to his own band. Once he got a head count, he’d stock junk food and drinks, burn the downloaded movies to disc . . .

But there was one thing he wasn’t going to have time to do: pre-screen the movies. Well, he’d get the basic descriptions from the site and write out little intros for each one. You pretty much knew what you were getting into with grindhouse - right?  
* * *  
As it turned out, Saga’s reluctance was unwarranted, because it was shaping up to be a fun evening for all. In addition to all of the GazettE and nearly all of Alice Nine, Ruki had invited some friends from other bands (including Keiyuu, who plunked himself down next to Tora and Saga and loudly proclaimed, “Bring on the blood!”).

There were mountains of pizza, bowls and bowls of popcorn, bags of all varieties of chips and enough chocolate to make Willy Wonka green with envy. There were also a variety of alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks - no Kai Shou-chu, though (which Kai was glad for).

True to what Ruki thought, they got exactly what they were in for from the films. The first one was a zombie flick, prompting nostalgia for the filming of Mad Marble Hell Vision among the GazettE members in the audience.

The second film was a rather bizarre mashup of bikers and vampires, and the third was a straightahead slasher flick about a bizarre family living in the woods - like Texas Chainsaw Massacre, but with less artistry and even less of a budget. Keiyuu got his promised blood from that one - even if said blood looked suspiciously like the kind of watercolor paints used in elementary schools.

By the time they got to a fourth film, most of the crowd had called it an evening, thanked Ruki for his hospitality and climbed over the wreckage of empty pizza boxes and candy wrappers to get to the door.

The “survivors” were lounged about the room - Shou was lying on a big cushion near the TV, with Hiroto stretched out next to him, head pillowed on Shou’s stomach. Tora and Saga were on the couch in a similar position, with Tora sitting and Saga stretched out, head and shoulders on Tora’s lap. Kai and Uruha were on another pile of pillows, sort of leaning on each other like tent poles.

And their host was over at the TV, popping in the last of his downloaded DVDs. “So, we’re all up for one more?” he said. He got a chorus of lazy groans in response. Good - that meant they were all relaxed.

He pulled out his phone, opened the notes program and read off what he’d written about this particular movie. “This is a revenge drama, about an ex-stripper out to find her sister’s killers.” Which was pretty much all the site had said. Well, that told them what they were in for - Tora’s scantily clad babe with a gun.

At this point, Shou didn’t care what the movie was about. He was just feeling mellow and happy. He’d had a fun evening of junk films and junk food with friends. He was snuggled with Hiroto. In a few days, he’d be doing the thing he loved most in the world, going up on stage and performing for an audience.

Life was good right about now. The worries of facing his new position as Leader-san seemed far, far away.

His eyes followed Ruki as his friend headed back across the room and settled back on the floor with Aoi, next to the coffee table, where the two of them had an ashtray and drinks. (They didn’t have to drive tonight, after all). He looked over at Tora and Saga, at Kai and Uruha. It seemed kind of fitting that the “survivors” at the end of the evening were all loving couples.

Shou turned his attention back to the television, stroking Hiroto’s hair tenderly. His lover gave a small “mmmm” and snuggled closer.

The babes-and-bullets tale unfolded in front of him. The female vigilante stylishly blew away a lot of criminals, wore a lot of barely-there costumes (including no bra), and flirted with a hunky martial arts expert who was on the trail of the same crooks, for some unknown reason (other than to get in a few gratuitous kung fu scenes).

And then, the killing came to an end, and the heroine and her hero stood among the piles of bodies they had been responsible for, sharing a kiss backlit by a rather badly-photographed sunset. Everyone waited for the fade to black, and the end credits . . .

Except it didn’t fade to black. Instead, it faded to a cheesy-looking, very ‘70s bedroom. A waterbed covered in earth tones, shag carpeting to match, paneling on the walls, lava lamps .. . .

And Lady Vigilante pulling off what little top she wore, revealing a pair of very large, very natural-looking breasts with large, pink-brown nipples. Which promptly drew the attention of a shirtless Martial Arts Guy. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her hard, and they tumbled to the bed.

Hiroto gave a start. What the . . . was this turning into a porno? He hadn’t seen very many films of that type, but this sure had all the signs of one. Including the wailing saxophone on the soundtrack, accompanied by wacka-chicka guitar. Yes, he was actually watching a sex scene with a wacka-chicka soundtrack. It wasn’t a myth.

Shou raised his head, looked at the screen, and then looked at Hiroto. His lover was starting at the scene, mesmerized - or, perhaps, like a case of trainwreck syndrome. They watched as the man lowered his head to the woman’s breasts, and she tilted her head back, mouth open in a moan.

Okay, this was soft porn, not hard. You weren’t going to see any of the graphic details. But your mind could sure as hell fill in the blanks. Especially since you could HEAR the moan. The woman’s voice carried over the sax and wacka-chicka, the most real and authentic thing they’d beheld all evening.

They watched as Martial Arts Guy kissed down Lady Vigilante’s stomach, and then, as his head moved lower, there was a tight closeup of her face - bearing a look of absolute bliss, eyes closed, lips parted. And moaning again. Oh, was she moaning.

Hiroto swallowed. He knew damn well that’s what he looked like during sex. He’d watched that video he and Shou made together. He knew he sounded like that, too - well, more masculine, of course, but still.

Oh, no, his body was starting to respond. He was getting genuinely turned on - but he still couldn’t tear his eyes away. And it only got worse when the scene switched to the woman sitting astride the man, bouncing up and down, riding him. They were shot from the side, and a carefully placed fold of blankets concealed the point of penetration from view - but there was no covering at all for her breasts.

Except, of course, for her male co-star’s hands. They were all over them, fondling and caressing and directly rubbing the nipples, which were hard points - either the actress was genuinely turned on, or they’d applied ice right before shooting.

Hiroto remembered something Shou had said when they were making their video - the star’s body should be visible to the camera. Well, this was definitely the case here. Plus, the fact she was still moaning wasn’t helping the situation.

When the man under her started making sounds of pleasure as well, Hiroto knew he had to get out of the room. He had to compose himself. He couldn’t embarrass himself in front of his friends . . .

Shou felt the loss of warmth as Hiroto jumped off him and took off like a shot, headed for the back of the apartment - bedrooms, bathing room and toilet. He knew just why he’d left, too. Shou wasn’t quite as turned on by the scene, but it was still making him a bit uncomfortable in the nether regions.

He got up and ran after his lover. Hiroto had ducked into the bathing room, and was leaning against the wall, breathing deeply. And, dear God, he looked beautiful right now. Flushed skin, parted lips, the way he usually looked right before he and Shou . . .

And he should stop thinking along those lines right now. They were in someone else’s place. He was sure Ruki was unaware that scene was in there; he wouldn’t have showed it to his friends if he did. He should just grab Hiroto, thank Ruki for his hospitality quickly and leave.

Except he didn’t. He just looked at Hiroto, and remembered the movie scene, and remembered their video. Before he knew what he was doing, he was stepping into the room and shutting the door, and before Hiroto could even take a breath, Shou was kissing him hard, pressing him up against the wall. The younger man’s hands came up to the back of his lover’s head, automatically, even as his head was spinning.

Well, they’d been in surreal situations before. After a hotel ballroom closet, a bathroom in someone else’s place was almost normal. And so, Hiroto let his lips part with a small sound of pleasure, sighing as he felt Shou’s tongue stroking his.

Shou’s long arm shot out to flip the lock on the door – because God forbid they give someone else an eyeful after the film had given them an eyeful enough – as he continued to kiss Hiroto, deeply, feeling his lover press against him. They were wedged between the sink and the tub – like most Japanese households, Ruki’s had the toilet and the bathing facilities in separate rooms.

It was Hiroto who broke the kiss and started to work his way down Shou’s neck, which made Shou lean back, closing his eyes and sighing. “Keep going,” he murmured. “You like this, don’t you?”

Hiroto responded with a little nip right at the top of his lover’s shoulder, which made his lover jump and gasp in surprise. Oh, yes, the movie scene had made the guitarist aggressive. Shou wasn’t complaining. He covered Hiroto’s hand in his and guided it to the buttons of his shirt, moaning as the other man began to unfasten them, so fast he nearly tore both threads and fabric.

They flipped positions, and now Shou was against the wall as Hiroto pushed the fabric aside, running his teeth lightly over the skin as he slid downward. When he reached the nipple, he ran his tongue over it, slowly, and Shou moaned, not caring how loud it was.

“Suck,” he panted. “Please, Hiroto . . .”

Hiroto was all too happy to comply, wrapping his lips around the bud, then flicking his tongue over it. Shou tilted his hips forward, lost in complete bliss now. “They might be able to hear us, you know,” he panted, teasingly.

His lover responded by moving his mouth to the other nipple and cupping his hand over Shou’s crotch, rubbing the growing erection through the fabric. Which was pretty much a big, fat “I don’t care.”

“Aaaah, yes,” Shou moaned. Oh, God, Hiroto was like a little animal tonight. He just wished he had his video camera now. Now, this would make one hell of a sexy video. He found himself groaning at the feel of teeth nipping at his belly, the hand on his erection moving faster.

What happened next was no surprise. He expected to feel that hand tug at his zipper and pull at his pants. He expected Hiroto to guide his pants and underwear downward, until he could step out of them.

What he didn’t expect was for Hiroto to suddenly guide him toward the bath mat and push his shoulders, forcing him down to his knees . . . and then push them again, indicating he should have his head on his folded arms, ass in the air.

“Hiroto?” Shou said, looking over his shoulder. But all he could see was the younger man stripping himself out of his clothes, rapidly – and then opening the cabinet under the sink. Oh, Shou knew what he’d find there – he’d been one of Ruki’s lovers himself, at one time. In addition to the ample bath and hair products that were a must for any J-rocker, there would be condoms and lube and probably one or two toys. (Shou did hope Hiroto wouldn’t be inspired to use those. Making love in your host’s bathroom and helping yourself to his lube was one thing, but borrowing his toys kind of strained the limits of politeness.)

He heard Hiroto rummaging around in the cabinet, and then heard an excited exclamation of “Oh, yes!” (Yeah, he was really starting to get worried about the toy thing now). He turned his head back, leaning it on his folded arms, not wanting to spoil whatever Hiroto had planned.

“What are you doing?” he said when he felt lube being poured into the cleft of his bottom. Fortunately, Ruki was the type to keep several bottles of the stuff on hand. It paid to be well-prepared in the event of unforeseen circumstances, after all.

“You’ll see.” It was the kind of teasing tone that Shou would usually use with Hiroto. The tables were turned tonight, it seemed. And then, he felt himself gently being parted, and he waited for the fingers to enter him . . .

He felt something else instead, spread out over his bottom. Plastic? Was that PLASTIC? (Okay, so it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility Ruki would have that in his bathroom. He was a world-class pervert, after all). Was Hiroto planning to . . .

The sensation of something soft and strong and hot teasing his entrance put any questions to rest. Oh, yes, he was doing that. That was Hiroto’s tongue gently pushing against the opening through the plastic, wriggling around a little, pulling out, then circling the puckered hole, teasing him.

Shou didn’t care if the whole world heard him now. He just let his head fall forward, moaning, hardly able to believe he was experiencing this. Hiroto. Was. Rimming. Him. That was his beloved’s tongue pushing into him again, a little further this time, moving around, stroking sensitive spots that made Shou quiver with delicious sensation.

He was writhing, and he was pushing his hips toward the younger man, wanting that tongue in further. He heard himself murmuring, “Go on, do it more, I want more, fuck me with your tongue. Fuck me more.”

And, oh, did Hiroto obey him. He felt that lovely, soft thing thrust into him, hard, wigging around, then pull out, then thrust in again. It was the most delicious invasion of his body he’d ever felt, all the more so because it was so unexpected. But that was Hiroto’s hot breath he felt on his ass, and Hiroto’s hands running up and down his back, the nails scratching the skin lightly, right at the borderline between pleasure and pain.

He was experimenting now, pausing in his thrusting, rubbing against this spot and that – and when he suddenly hooked his tongue, pressing upward against a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves, Shou almost exploded. Instead, he cried out, and then cried out again as Hiroto repeated the action, hitting the same spot again, only twice as hard.

“I love you,” he gasped. “Oh, my God, how I love you . . .”

The tongue withdrew from him, and Shou groaned in disappointment – but he didn’t have much time to brood, because lube-covered fingers were pushed in almost as soon as the plastic was pulled away. He thrust backward again, murmuring “Oh, yes,” as Hiroto gently scissored the two digits.

“Did you like it?” Hiroto said, his voice a soft purr, and Shou could only purr back. Oh, my God, if this was what watching these kind of movies did, Shou wanted that link to the grindhouse site. He’d fill his whole damn hard drive with these films.

“Yes,” he said. “Hiroto . . . oh, my God, it was incredible . . .”

“It’s not over yet.” And to punctuate Hiroto’s words, a third finger slipped inside Shou, and he moaned again. He wanted this, too, wanted his lover’s cock where his tongue had been, wanted Hiroto to fill him and possess him every way possible.

“Please,” Shou gasped. “Please, Hiroto, I’m ready.”

The fingers withdrew from him, and he heard the squish of the lube (yeah, they were going to owe Ruki a bottle), followed by hands gripping his hips. He moved his legs further apart, encouraging Hiroto to enter.

When the hardness pressed inside him, bit by bit, he did feel pain – he wasn’t usually on the receiving end, after all (at least with Hiroto). But he knew it was going to fade quickly, so he breathed deeply, concentrating on the sensation of Hiroto sheathing himself in his lover’s body, bit by bit.

Hiroto paused, breathing deeply. “So good,” he murmured. “Shou, you feel so good . . .”

“Tell me how it feels,” Shou said in a husky voice. “Describe it.”

“You’re so tight,” Hiroto murmured. “So tight, it’s like you’re squeezing me. But every time I move inside you, it makes my whole body feel hot. I just can’t get enough.”

“Move, then,” Shou whispered. “Make both of us feel good, Hiroto.”

The younger man began to thrust, slowly, both of them savoring the sensation, the intimacy. If this had initially been about having to burn off the heat from a sexy movie scene, and then had been about naughtiness in a friend’s bathroom, it was now about the two of them, and their connection.

Hiroto leaned over so that Shou could turn his head for a kiss, and their lips came together, sweet and hot. Hiroto’s tongue brushed Shou’s lower lip before slipping into his mouth, seeking out Shou’s own tongue.

The two men began to move together, Hiroto thrusting into Shou, Shou pushing back against him. The sensations were building up in Shou quickly, the areas that had been stimulated by Hiroto’s soft tongue heating up quickly now that hard, hot flesh was rubbing over them instead.

Their breathing became increasingly ragged as their hips pumped, their skin glistening with sweat, Hiroto reaching under Shou’s body to touch his erection – but all it needed was the lightest of brushes. Any more and Shou would go off on the spot. Neither wanted that.

“Ooooh, yes,” Shou groaned, feeling Hiroto deep inside him, thrusting, moving, filling him over and over. “Oh, Hiroto, I think I’m getting close . . .”

“Me too,” Hiroto moaned. “I want to come in you.”

His words were just about enough on their own. Shou thrust backward, letting out a sharp cry, driving Hiroto deep inside him and hitting his sweet spot. Stars exploded behind his eyes, and his whole body was suddenly flooded with burning ecstasy as he threw his head back, crying out with a full voice this time.

He felt Hiroto grasp his hips, and felt him surge against him, followed by Hiroto letting out a very long, loud moan as he did what he said he would, filling Shou with his essence.

The two men collapsed to the rug together, panting, kissing, laughing a little. And Hiroto blushed – because it suddenly hit him what had just happened.

“I can’t believe we did this,” he said, leaning his head against Shou’s chest.

“Believe it,” Shou said. “Because we did.” He kissed Hiroto, gently. “I love you. You surprised me, you know that?”

Hiroto ran his fingers over Shou’s hair. “I saw Ruki had the Saran wrap in the cabinet, and I just had to use it. I remember how it felt when you did that to me.”

“You’re very creative,” Shou said, kissing Hiroto again. “And not just with your guitar.” Looking around him, he said, “And speaking of Ruki, we need to get this place cleaned up. We don’t want him finding out what we did here next time he goes to take a bath.”

They were reluctant to part, though, sharing another long, lingering kiss before standing up. Even then, they didn’t dress at first, carefully wiping off surfaces and putting things away still naked, as if putting their clothes back on would seal them off from each other and end the moment.

Only when Shou said, “We’d better get out there before people wonder” did they finally pick up their clothes, dressing quickly – and sharing a last, tender kiss before opening the door. Hiroto slipped back into the living room first, waiting a few moments before Shou joined him.

Hiroto looked around, in confusion. “Where is everyone?” he said.

Shou glanced around. Everyone was gone. Everyone. There was just a pile of cushions where Kai and Uruha had been. Tora and Saga were nowhere in sight. Even their host and his significant other seemed to have disappeared.

“Huh,” he said. “Must be in the kitchen.” He headed in that direction – only to stop in his tracks. A noise floated through the air – a very distinct one. It sounded, in fact, like a very human moan of pleasure.

Hiroto suddenly froze in place. “Is that . . .” He turned his head in the direction they had just come from. The doors of the master bedroom and the guest bedroom were both very much closed – and another moan came through the air.

Shou suddenly laughed, putting his hand on Hiroto’s shoulder. “I don’t think we were the only ones who got ideas,” he said. He wondered how the makers of that film would react to knowing they’d turned on a whole room of J-rockers. He didn’t want to think about the fact that the actor and actress in that scene were probably old enough to be their parents by now.

Hiroto’s eyes grew wide, and remained trained on the two doors. “Shou?” he said. “I . . . I think we should go home. We can text Ruki and thank him for having us over . . .” Another moan came from the direction of the bedrooms. “Later. Much later.”

Shou pulled Hiroto closer and hugged him. “We can,” he said. “We might be busy when we get home, though.”

“Oh?” Hiroto looked puzzled – and then got it. “Ohhh.”

Shou kissed him, and said, “Come on. We can make our own movie again, if you want to.”

Climbing over pizza boxes and empty popcorn bowls, they made their way to the door. Every great performance deserved a sequel.


End file.
